


By the Skin of Your Teeth (You'll Be Under My Thumb)

by The_Unnatural_Disaster (havent_got_a_clue)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Het and Slash, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Threesome - F/M/M, Ulterior Motives, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havent_got_a_clue/pseuds/The_Unnatural_Disaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I guess you don’t-- ” But Stiles is staring. Staring like he, too, has something to prove to Peter and it’s not just jealousy at watching him with Lydia. It’s something else, something darker and intriguing. </p><p>Lydia lets go of Peter and walks over to Stiles and kisses him with just as much need as she did Peter. He protests, briefly, but Lydia whispers something in his ear that even Peter’s wolf senses can’t make out and Stiles nods his head and finally submits to her.</p><p>And could he really be this lucky to get both of these amazing creatures tonight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Skin of Your Teeth (You'll Be Under My Thumb)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AvaRosier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/gifts).



Two gorgeous young things showing up at his doorstep after midnight and he should be so lucky but Lydia’s covered in dirt and leaves and she smells like the forest and Stiles simply scowls at Peter like, “ _You broke her, you fix her_ ,” but just because he did it, doesn’t mean he knows how to _undo_ it. 

She’s crying, apparently not uncommon for her these days and if he didn’t already feel some affection and responsibility for her, he’d only now start to feel something like pity for the girl and it just makes the whole situation that much worse because he’s been in her head and no one--no one --pities Lydia Martin and lives to tell about it.

She doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing past Peter with Stiles a short distance behind, obviously not willing to give her any personal space in case Peter feels like filling it, but Lydia shrugs him off on her own and rushes Peter like he’ll run or she’ll lose her nerve.

She hesitates only a fraction of a moment before something deep in her snaps and she pushes him. Hard. She pushes him and claws at him, sharp nails stinging and he lets the blood flow so she can see the damage so it might satisfy her more, but she watches the trickles of blood stain his shirt and bursts into tears, burying her head in his neck. He can feel the tears soak his skin there.

“I hate you.” 

“I know.” He kisses the top of her head. “Gorgeous, intelligent Lydia...I know.” 

Peter wants to--no, he probably _needs_ to stop himself from pulling her in close but, hell, who is he kidding? And anyway he’s been inside her head, saw how that boy Jackson took everything she too-willingly gave and never returned the favor, felt the rejection and self-doubt she had, and what she needs now, what she needed then, is to be in control. Not someone who will fight tooth and claw, like Jackson. She needs a challenge, a reason to fight; she needs to shed her fear of him, punish him for what he did to her.

But his wants aren’t even a thought in her head as she pulls him down to kiss him. Not out of love or lust or passion, but _need_. Her need to rule him and hate him and control him and his...his need for forgiveness. 

She kisses him through tears and anger and her nails dig deep into his skin and he could definitely see himself getting lost in this until a gruff, annoyed noise from the other side of the room makes them remember they are not alone. 

“I guess you don’t-- ” But he’s staring. Staring like he, too, has something to prove to Peter and it’s not just jealousy at watching him with Lydia. It’s something else, something darker and intriguing. 

Lydia lets go of Peter and walks over to Stiles and kisses him with just as much need as she did Peter. He protests, briefly, but Lydia whispers something in his ear that even Peter’s wolf senses can’t make out and Stiles nods his head and finally submits to her.

And could he really be this lucky to get both of these amazing creatures tonight?

Stiles follows her like a lost puppy back over to Peter but he’s still scowling and wary on the approach.

Peter grabs Stiles by the back of the neck and pulls him in.

“Whatever she needs. Right, Stiles?” He kisses Stiles and instantly something breaks in him as well, like every pent-up feeling of rage and helplessness since the night they met on the lacrosse field has been clotted up deep inside him and has finally broken free. He needs this, too, the poor boy. 

He bites at Peter’s lip, taking it in and he knows Stiles is tasting Lydia on it. Peter can smell him and it’s the same smell he gave off when he offered him the bite and it makes him want this so much more. 

Lydia watches them with wide eyes, like she never thought it would get this far but now she doesn’t want to stop. They’re doing this for _her_. 

She watches until she looks like she can’t bear to be on the outside any longer and pushes--she’s always so pushy--her way between them and no one would dare protest even if they didn’t want her so badly. She snakes an arm around Stiles behind her and his eyes never leave Peter even as he’s kissing the junction of her shoulder and her neck. 

Peter claims her throat, licking it, kissing it, but leaving his teeth out of the whole affair.

He knows better. 

She tastes like the forest and burnt sugar and her heartbeat, amplified by Stiles’, overpowers the weak, breathy moans she tries to suppress and he’ll let her take him, own him, rule him, but damned if he won’t prove she likes it. 

He winds a hand up to the top button of her shirt and sets about undoing them one by one, pausing after each in case she changes her mind. Each push of fabric exposes more skin down her shoulders and back and Stiles is right there exploring it with his hands and mouth, stopping only once to peek at what Peter is getting an eyeful of in the front.

Her bra is lacy, expensive, but no one cares about that when there is so much treasure underneath it. Peter lazily runs a hand over the fabric and cups her breast and she gasps but lets him continue as Stiles finishes the job on the shirt, taking it the rest of the way off and tossing it aside. 

Lydia leans back into Stiles, an easy comfort there that sends a jolt of jealousy down into his core, but this isn’t about comfort tonight. 

She pouts with annoyed impatience like he’s supposed to read her mind and he wants to remind her he hasn’t been able to do that since before....

He shakes the thought free and licks his lips. Her eyes flicker over his chest and lower and, no mind reading required, he finally gets it. He lifts his shirt off in one smooth motion and she tilts her head approvingly. 

_Two down_. And Stiles must sense the inequality in the room and follows suit as Peter finds his way back to Lydia’s fantastic breasts. 

“A little help here?” He smirks at Stiles, wondering if he even knows how to unhook a bra, but nimble fingers work it loose before he can ask it out loud. This clearly isn’t his first time and he wonders just how deep inside Lydia he’ll still be able to get a sense of Stiles.

Stiles pushes the damned thing off her shoulders and she’s finally free of it, leaving creamy white skin and pink nipples, hard and begging to be touched. 

Lydia has other ideas, of course, lest he forget that this is hers to rule. She pulls him close for a kiss, forcing his warm skin against her and before he can wonder if Stiles is getting jealous now, he can feel her left shoulder moving in a slow up and down rhythm, her arm trapped between her back and Stiles, obviously rubbing on his cock. 

Stiles hisses and bites at her shoulder and his eyes meet with Peter’s once again and there’s still hatred and fear and bravado and competition and he must be just as fucked as everyone says he is when his first thought is _I can work with that_. 

Peter takes the distraction Stiles’ moaning makes and breaks the slow kisses Lydia is demanding from him. He moves to her neck, forcing her head to turn to Stiles so he can take his place because Peter needs to touch her _now_. 

Lydia shakes when his fingers graze her nipples. Her back arches, pushing her chest harder into his grasp. Stiles holds her steady and Peter bends to give them more attention, this time with his mouth. 

Lydia whispers something that doesn’t sound English. Her eyes are closed now, trusting Peter to behave and trusting Stiles to take care of him if he doesn’t. 

He flicks his tongue against her left breast, cupping it, claiming it for his own, and his gentle licks soon give way to taking in a mouthful, sucking on it to draw it to full hardness. He doesn’t want to play favorites, though, and he reaches with his free hand to caress the other, but Stiles is already there, thumbing it idly while they kiss. 

Stiles jerks back a bit at Peter’s touch, but Peter finds Stiles’ wrist, takes his hand and places it back where it was. Lydia wants him, too. Peter can share.

He lets go of Stiles’ wrist and cups the other breast, too, crooking a finger around Stiles’ whenever they come close until they are clasping hands, touching Lydia together. 

Peter doesn’t want to break the spell, but he’s all too aware of Lydia between them. He slowly works his way to the other side, where he and Stiles are still linked together and Stiles lets go but immediately places his hand on Peter’s head, holding it there with a strong grip. 

Lydia watches this exchange possessively and the greedy look in her eye makes losing control a heady option. 

He pushes away after a few seconds and falls to his knees. There are still far too many clothes amongst them. Peter lifts up Lydia’s feet one by one and slips off her shoes. Stiles kicks himself free of his, as well. Lydia’s down to her short skirt and whatever is underneath it and he and Stiles are down to their bottoms, too. 

Peter reaches up under her skirt and feels a tiny pair of panties clinging to her hips. He weighs his options against his need to be inside her in the fastest manner possible and pulls them down so she can step out of them. He can’t help but notice they are wet, a small hint of what he hopes is to come. 

Stiles takes the in and slips out of his own jeans and boxers, lifting the back of her skirt so he can rub himself against her ass. He has her breasts exclusively now and Peter can claim a new prize for himself.  
He lifts the front of her skirt and reaches a hand between her legs and it’s all silky, slick wetness and warmth. She trembles as he pushes a finger inside her.

The smell of her is incredible, intoxicating, and he has to taste her like this. His free hand opens her up enough for his tongue to find her clit and the noise that escapes her lips is worth dying a thousand times over just to hear again. 

He can feel Stiles pressing against her from behind and he wants him, too, right now. Peter slips his finger from inside Lydia and reaches through her legs to fist Stiles’ cock. 

Lydia’s hips move in time to his tongue, the combined motion of her and Peter’s hand getting Stiles harder and harder and he doesn’t think the boy can hold out much longer and how fair would that be, right before things really got started?

Lydia comes before he can give the problem another thought. Sweet honey flows from her and he laps it up while she watches with those ever critical, demanding eyes and he just wants to give her more. 

Peter stands on shaky legs and it should be Lydia he kisses now, but it’s Stiles who wins the prize, invading his mouth like he wants to take away every drop of Lydia Peter took, to taste her for himself. He’d make a sarcastic remark about the early bird and the worm, but Lydia frantically goes to work unfastening Peter’s trousers. 

Her tiny hands struggle in her determination but he doesn’t dare interfere, just dutifully steps back and watches her reaction as his cock springs free from its restraint. 

He guides the two of them to his bed and is content to just watch the two of them for a moment. They are a vision together, moving against each other, that easy comfort so apparent here, too. Stiles finally mouths at her breasts and her breathy gasps from before have turned to contented sighs as he swirls his tongue around the peaks. They are both flushed with a fine sheen of sweat glistening on their skin. 

Patience of a saint or not, they make a gorgeous picture that threatens to end this early for Peter and he needs this to last, to be a part of something so sacred and pure like these two creatures before they take it all back. 

Lydia takes over, pushing Stiles on his back and works her way down Stiles’ stomach, following the light dusting of hair all the way down until those full lips close around his dick and Peter doesn’t know what sets him off more-the thought of Lydia doing that to him or Stiles’ reaction and imagining how he could get a better one. 

Peter crawls on the bed next to her. Her eyes are glazed over but she knows what he wants. She makes a show of swirling her tongue to the tip, closing her eyes in pleasure. She ignores his unspoken request . It’s not until he begs a breathy, “Please, Lydia” that she pulls off completely and tilts her head so Peter can join her.

They take turns on Stiles, sometimes even licking together, their tongues meeting on Stiles’ shaft until he’s whimpering.

It’s Lydia who finally grants him the release when she pulls off and straddles him, taking him into her hands and guiding him inside her. Peter watches her body move on top of him, her face as she lowers herself inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. 

There’s nothing he can do for either of them now. Not in this state. He fists his own cock, eyes flitting from Stiles to Lydia and it doesn’t take long before Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and arches his back in a beautiful orgasm. 

Lydia kisses him as he comes down. They run their hands all over each other and for a good long while, Peter may as well not even be in the room, but suddenly Lydia is rolling off Stiles and wordlessly ordering Peter to get on his back. 

It takes no time at all before Lydia is on top of Peter, slicking up his shaft with her own wetness combined with Stiles’ come. The sensation is incredible. It doesn’t take long before she’s fucking him while Stiles kneels behind her, kissing all the skin he can reach, holding her, supporting her as she thrusts her hips to get him deeper inside her. 

She takes her time with him. She must know he can hold out for as long as he needs to. Her hips sway against him, pushing him deeper inside her and Stiles parries every thrust from behind her with a thrust of his own and suddenly Peter gets it. She’s waiting for Stiles to get hard again. 

Flashes of the time spent in her mind come back to him, shards from the deepest recesses of the darkest corners of her mind, fantasies of Jackson, of Scott, of Peter himself and how these figments worship her and how she rules them in those fantasies. 

He’s not surprised when Lydia leans back into Stiles. “Both of us.”

Stiles swallows hard but nods his head, like he ever had a choice. She’s got just as tight a grip on Stiles as she does on Peter. 

Stiles pulls away, crawls off Peter to let Lydia do the same. He’s so hard it’s painful letting her go, but he finds that he is even more excited by what Lydia is almost certainly asking for. 

Peter turns over and gets on his knees, pulling Lydia by her hips so he can enter her from behind. He can hear Stiles take a deep breath. This is certainly a first for him; he can smell the trepidation. 

“Do it, Stiles. God, just do it.” His ass is slick already from Lydia. And he wants this.

Stiles clears his throat and runs a finger along his entrance, feeling the wetness. He’s trying to be polite about it, the dear boy.

“Fuck me, Stiles. I can take it. Fuck me before I come in your girlfriend.” 

And it’s all Stiles needs. He pumps his cock a few times and pushes it inside Peter angrily and every inch is sweet torture, filling him up and making every sensation Lydia is giving his own cock a thousand times more intense. 

“Oh, God.” Stiles cries out over and over as he thrusts into him in a driving rhythm that forces Peter to match it with Lydia. 

For these moments, their bodies move as one, fucking each other until Lydia comes again, tightening around Peter until he can’t hold out any longer and comes with a primal growl inside Lydia. Stiles follows moments later, shaking against Peter’s back as he spills inside him.

 _Addictive_. It’s all he can think before he collapses in exhaustion. 

He awakens sometime later to the slow languid rhythm of Stiles on top of Lydia, fucking her slowly as they share a deep kiss. He wants to reach out and touch her, touch him, but it’s clear he was not invited to this round. Stiles hands seem to know just where to go to make her moan and Lydia matches every movement perfectly. She comes and it’s sweeter now, her cries softer. Stiles doesn’t break her gaze as he comes soon after, whimpering through the final thrusts. And no matter what happened earlier between the three of them, he will never have this familiarity with either of them and his heart actually hurts from the thought.

And the penny finally drops. This was never about forgiveness. This was never about closure. This was about showing him a taste of what he could have had and then ripping it away from him, just like he did to their sense of a normal life. 

They leave, wordlessly, hand in hand, and Peter is as he should be once again: alone.


End file.
